Two-Bit's Sister
by AlongTheBinding
Summary: When Two-bit's sister's friend runs away, she tries to find her. Instead, what she winds up finding is more than she expected.
1. Two Shits

**I do not own The Outsiders.**

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You know him as Two-Bit Mathews, rusty sideburns, black-handled switchblade, drooling over blondes like a freaking dog Greaser who's a worse gossip than a girl Soc. You know him as the wise-cracking, never back down from a fight, shop-lifting, eighteen and still a junior, can't ever keep his mouth shut, no good hood. He's the guy who never cries, but can't help but make other people laugh. He can charm the pants off anyone and I'm pretty sure has, and is always grinning. He's a real good buddy to his gang and known all around Tulsa. The cops have him on their radar and he thinks it's a reason to brag.

To me, though, he ain't some big tough hood stalking the streets of Tulsa. He's nothing but Keith Mathews who don't give two-shits. He's the get drunk, disappear to hunt action with his greasy gang, start a fight, get in trouble, come in at three in the goddamn morning, waking up the entire neighborhood, lazy ass that's passed out on the couch right now. My nose scrunches at the sour stench and my stomach twists at some far away memory I don't want to think about.

I push those unwelcomed thoughts aside and wonder what in the almighty god forsaken universe all those girls he goes through sees in a guy like my brother. I always want to tell them he ain't worth it. They'll find a hundred guys like him if they go stand on some street corner. I would feel kind of bad, the way he tosses them aside like a dirty rag, but they got to know what they're getting into. He is notorious Two-Bit Mathews, after all.

This thought makes me sicker to my stomach. I can't look at him anymore. My eyes dart around the house, instead. The place is a mess, always is. And it don't help that he and sometimes his friends come tramping through, make it worse, than leave. I feel bad for Ma, working till she can hardly stand, and then coming home to the pig sty. I try to help out, I do, but it gets frustrating when it's mostly his drunk sorry ass and I'm the only one cleaning it all up. Lately, it all is a result of the old Mathews stubbornness. He won't do nothing, so I won't do nothing and we'll see who can last longer. The problem is he could live in a freaking dumpster and be content and my impatience will win out over my stubbornness. It always does.

What's worse is he's ma's golden-boy. As far as she's concerned, he can do no wrong. She thinks I can do no wrong either, but I a_ctually_ don't do nothing wrong, well at least not as wrong as him. And it ain't like she ain't appreciative, she is, but it's frustrating as hell when she thinks he wears a halo no matter what.

I swear my mother is a saint. The only good thing about my brother is he says the same thing. But, see, she's gotta be a saint to put up with him and her life. I try not to be too much trouble for her, and I succeed for the most part, but Keith's always causing problems. Like when she has to use her paycheck on his bail for talking back to cops. She don't raise her voice or nothing to him, just gives him this real tired smile and he thanks her by running off with his buds. I think she should let him rot in jail, then maybe we'd actually be able to afford a decent meal and the house wouldn't be such a mess.

" 'Ey little sis," Keith slurs as he unsteadily sits up.

"Two." I nod a greeting. He don't answer to Keith no more and I ain't gonna call him Two-Bit. No matter what. Two, like Two-shits, I think, as in you don't give any. When we were really young, I would've grinned at him at told him 'careful, Two, people might start calling you two-by-four.' Thinking of that awful schoolyard chant that haunted many a student and teacher alike in elementary school and the early years of junior high, calling him Two-by-Four might be a more accurate description of him now. I bet he'll develop a beer gut in a year or two and go bald and no blonde will ever want to hang all over him again.

I hate that he looks so much like ma. Ma says it ain't her he looks like, and I wonder if that's why she'd let him get away with murder. But he's got the same red hair. I'd give anything for that. Then maybe I wouldn't mind so much looking at my own reflection. People say they got the same sense of humor, too, but I don't think he's that funny. And for a long time Ma's been too tired for things like cracking jokes.

He flashes a toothy grin. "Why don't you be nice and get me a beer?"

I snort and turn on my heel to the kitchen. "I ain't your damn maid." Truth is we don't got any beer. We don't got nothing in the fridge, except the final egg in a carton, but even if we did he's got two arms and legs that are functional, so screw him and his lazy ass. And, frankly, I ain't about to be nice to him in the least.

He follows me into the kitchen, rummages through the cabinets and fridge, discovers what he'd know if he ever cared to stay home long enough, and heads out, slamming the door behind him, with no word.

The truth is I'm just waiting for the day he walks out that door and never comes back.

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**AN: So, for some reason I have been very nervous about posting this story. I already have several chapter written out, but I think part of my nervousness has to do with just how many OCs there are in this story, as well as the style and everything. The characters from the book I'm trying really hard to keep in character, but keep in mind this is also from Two-bit's sister's perspective. This story sort of came about because of another fanfiction I was writing where Steve's dad and Two-bit's mother gets together. In the midst of writing that, the character I made for Two-bit's sister sort of stole the spotlight and her character wouldn't leave me alone. I started writing this, but then some OCs just sort of randomly walked on and I wasn't really planning on the direction this story took, but yeah. Sometimes characters have a mind of their own, if you know what I mean.**


	2. Minnie Mouse

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders!**

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I was debating whether or not I should go to school. I just wasn't feeling it when I woke up and especially after seeing Keith. Normally I'm okay, but normally he wakes up at the Curtis house. Keith likes school but I think he's crazy. School is a waste of time and effort if you ask me. And it's obvious the whole school feels the same way about me. See, as someone who comes from the East side, I'm nothing but trash, and as a girl, I'm even more worthless. They expect me to fall in line with some crappy 50's sitcom, don some pearls, marry some guy and have the whole 2.5 kids and white picket fence. It's bullshit, really.

I ain't ever gonna get married. What's it ever done for anybody? Two high school sweet hearts fall in love or all that gushy crap. He puts on a suit and says 'I do' to working a 9-5 of a minimum wage you can hardly live off of and she puts on a pretty white dress and says 'I do' to giving up her passions and dreams to stay home with 2.5 whiney ass brats. At least that's the sitcom version. Truth is, if you ain't got money, you ain't got much of a family. That's the way it is on the East side. Everybody's yelling and sometimes yelling turns to a black eye. Or someone breaks that "now and forever" promise and ups and splits. Then the woman who gave up everything for that bastard is stuck on her feet all day with little to nothing to show for it but a tired smile. Every rule has an exception, though, right? Well, that one exception might have been the Curtis's, but see where that got them? Even the exceptions never last.

I ain't gonna get stuck here. I ain't gonna be like them. I ain't gonna be ma.

But then I think of Minnie. She's got this mousy hair and twitchy mousy eyes and she's small. I don't mean she's actually small. I mean she seems small. She's only a month or two younger than me, but I like to think of her as a little sister. I like the way she looks up to me and follows me around and thinks I'm the greatest thing since sliced bread. She practically worships the ground I walk. I like that she needs me and it makes me feel important or something.

If I didn't come to school, they'd tear her apart. My near spotless attendance record is mostly due to her. She's one of the only good people I know in this dead-end town.

I cook up the egg and put the plate on the counter with a lid to keep it warm and scribble a smiley face on a nearby napkin. I'd take a shower, but we ain't got no hot water and I figure gym class is at least good for one thing, especially in the morning. I dig through my laundry basket for something that I can pass off as clean and slip on Keith's hand-me-down sneakers.

I hate those shoes. They're comfortable and everything, but when you get nothing but crap for them, it makes it hard to appreciate them. Once in art class, I tried to paint them pink with these little flowers so the girls would lay off, but I was dragged to the office and they wound up calling my ma and she had to come from work and her boss weren't too happy. She gave me the same tired smile she normally gives Keith and I felt like shit. And the rest of the day she had this guilty look and talked about finding some money to get me new shoes, but I knew we needed the money for more important things like food and hot water and keeping a roof over our head, so I told her to forget it and whether she wanted to or not, she kind of had to. The paint washed off the next time it rained.

Running my hand through my hair, I sigh in even more frustration at the greasy feel of it. It looks even greasier. The boys on this side of town thinks slicking back their hair and putting all that grease in it looks tuff and for some, like Sodapop Curtis, it looks real good on him. But on a girl like me it makes me look like the trash the rest of the dead-end town thinks I am. Kids on the East side don't have much to be proud of, but the boys at least got their titles or turf or whatever, and their long greasy hair. As a girl, though, you ain't got nothing. You can't fight like them 'cause they won't let you. So we stick to packs like hyenas, laughing and hissing with sharpened claws ready to attack the moment we feel pushed to the wall.

That's why I gotta get to school. They'd eat a girl like Minnie alive. I'm late enough as is and probably going to drag Minnie down with me because I know she'll wait for me. I feel even shittier about that. I appreciate it, though. I wouldn't want to walk into that place alone. It's a little easier to face down the scowls and glares of teachers and so-called peers with someone by your side.

She's leaning against a tree, smoking a cigarette, trying to look all tough and cool. I have to laugh and she looks up and does a little head nod as a greeting, all part of the act. It makes me laugh harder. "What? You think I ain't tough?" She puffs out her chest and tries to stand a little taller. "I'm damn tough!"

I try to stifle the laughter because she looks offended and the last thing I want to do is hurt her feelings, but words like 'ain't' and 'damn' don't fit her mouth the way they fit mine. "You're damn tough alright. Where'd you lift the kools?"

She shrugs like it's nothing with this little grin that she always wears when she's trying to impress me. "The old man."

"Hey, speaking of which," We head to gym, our second class. We might've ditched homeroom and our first class, but we'll be early for our next. "You ain't gonna catch hell for this at home, are you?"

The grin wanes slightly. "Probably more for the cigarette." She studies it a moment. I throw my arm around her shoulders 'cause I know that look. The truth is she's really going to catch hell about it and come back to school all quiet and mousy again. Every once in a while she's like this, mouthy and real, but that's only when things at home are going really well and that don't happen too often.

"Want me to come over after school? I can distract them for a little while." Her parents ain't too bad when they ain't giving her a hard time, but when they want to, they can do this fake nice that just really kills you on the inside. Her mother's probably the worse of the two I'd say, but they seem not to mind me too much. Minnie says it's the old Mathews charm, but I think with her parents its just pity. I kind of hate going to her house because her mother lays it on thick. It's a whole bunch of looking down on my ma because she's got to work and I don't got a dad around and today it'll be because my hairs all greasy and my clothes are all wrinkly. I don't mind Kelly's family or Susie-Ann's or even Tiffany 'cause I can take their turned up noses at me, but when you drag my ma into it, it's all I can do to not deck you.

"I'd like to not go home at all." She whispers and she does this turtle thing, where her shoulders scrunch up and her head lowers. Her eyes turn all twitchy and mousy again.

"Well, hell." I flash her a toothy grin. "I could go for a soda and a movie tonight, but you're paying." I hate to make her spend her money. I know she's been saving up for something. Her sock is always full of lunch money she never uses, but I figure a buck or two for some soda won't be too much a dent in her wallet and we can probably sneak into the movies no problem. Nobody ever gets caught doing that anyway.

She nods and though she's pretty much all good now she's got an excuse to go home a little later, she remains quiet for the rest of the day.

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**AN: Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the reviews! I can't begin to tell you how much I appreciate it! I hope you all continue to enjoy it and I hope you don't mind the OCs!**


	3. Envy

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders.**

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If I could be anybody, I'd like to be Angela Shepard.

I don't envy her her family or anything like that. I'd hate to be Tim Shepard's little sister or have a brother as stupid as Curly. As bad as Keith is, he sure looks better compared to those guys. And whenever you pass her rundown house her mother's always screeching and her stepdad's always hollering and there's something always breaking. Been there, done that, no thanks.

Everyone talks behind her back. Back in elementary school and junior high the worst thing someone could say to you was that stupid chant I would've taunted Keith with when we were younger, but high schools a whole other ball park. They've got names that make "fatty fatty two-by-four" look like a compliment. They call her bitch and whore and worse things that make me blush just thinking about. Just thinking of some of the stuff she's probably done makes me blush. I'm not really one for gossip, but I find there's normally some truth buried beneath all the crap people spread around. I don't envy her that neither, though she seems to eat it up.

It's the couldn't-give-a-shit attitude. It's the easy way she talks and flirts. It's the way she leans against the wall, steals someone else's smokes and matches, and lights up. It's the way she walks with her head raised like she owns the whole goddamn world, like she's someone even if no one else thinks she is. I like her cocky smile and the way she acts like nothing scares her. She doesn't think twice about shit and she doesn't give a hang about nothing. I can't help but admire a girl like that.

It's mostly the way she doesn't give a hang.

If I didn't give a hang about anything, everything would be a lot easier. I'd pack up a bag and beat it out of here as soon as I could, be it bus or hopping trains or my own two feet. I could hitchhike or something get as far away from here as I can, leave and never look back. I'd take Minnie with me and tell her she never has to go back home. It would be me and her against the whole damn world and it would be great.

But then I think of my ma with her tired smile and I feel shittier than I did about Keith's old hand-me-down shoes. I couldn't walk out that door if I tried and each time I think about just up and leaving, its days before I can face my reflection again. And even then, memories twist in my stomach and I forget my stubbornness and do the dishes or sweep the floor to make it up to my ma.

Even then, I sometimes wonder if me staying isn't worse than me not going. She'd never say it. I know she loves me and wouldn't want me to go, but I ain't dumb. I know one less mouth to feed could mean less hours she needs to work and then maybe she wouldn't be so tired all the time. Maybe she could look into some of those old dreams she had back when she was my age.

I asked her once, when she insisted on making me dinner at one in the morning after her shift, why she doesn't go for one of those dreams now. She ain't tied to some bastard anymore, so what's to stop her. Her tired smile turned sad and she kissed my forehead and said those dreams were dead and gone now. It made me feel too sick to finish the dinner, which really sucks because I love those types of late-night/early-morning dinners when it's just the two of us and I was real hungry. Even if she's dead on her feet and yawns after every word, it's the effort she puts into the little time she can give me.

I think most of all these bad feelings come from knowing she could take off at any point and no one would blame her, but she doesn't. Every night she comes through that front door and is the saint she is.

It would be easier if I didn't care. It wouldn't hurt as much if I was that tough, that careless, that thoughtless, that invincible as Angela Shepard.

I look away as Minnie, Kelly, Susie-Ann, and Tiffany and I enter the DX. If she catches me staring, she'd probably claw my eyes out. It's funny, I think, because she's the polar opposite of those Soc girls, but they'd do the same thing. No Soc would ever hang out with the likes of me. One whiff of my last name, my mother, where I live, my brother and they immediately turn their nose up. Truth is Kelly, Susie-Ann, and Tiffany, aren't Socs, they're middle-class, but they look down their noses at me, too. I couldn't tell you why they hang out with me, except maybe for it's a friendship of convenience. That is to say, they've known me since elementary school, since before they've adopted their parents outlook on those from the East side, and larger numbers of familiar faces is the only thing that'll get us through these next four years. At least, until Tiffany manages to kiss Cherry Valance's head cheerleader ass and make the team and win a little popularity and contacts to make her social status and party invites as big as her ego is currently. Her and the socs deserve each other. And where Tiffany goes her little minions follow, but the thread tying Kelly and Susie-Ann and her together will probably unravel when her two shadows aren't deemed good enough to hang with the Super Socs.

Minnie doesn't say anything when she pays for my soda. It almost goes by unnoticed when Tiffany huffs, the way she always does before she's about to make some snide comment. Today she's done it four times with me, for being late, my shoes, my hair, and my wrinkly clothes, in that order. "Gee, Deb, why do you always have to take advantage of Minnie?" She says it loud enough for everyone in there to hear. I feel their eyes on us. Tiffany loves the attention, but my face burns. Of course, Kelly and Susie-Ann are right there backing her up, nodding and agreeing and saying I'm rude and mean and the three of them got this way of saying it that feeds on the guilt I already have about making her spend the money she's saving. I don't know how they do it, but they really got this way of making you feel like a bitch.

"I don't mind." Minnie mutters, reaching in her sock for the dollar or two.

"Minnie," Tiffany levels her with this condescending look and tone to match, "when are you going to stop being such a push-over?" She flips her hair off her shoulders like she's seen Cherry and Marcia and those other Soc girls do. "No one respects you because you always let people like Deb, here, walk all over you." It's that same type of fake nice that really eats at you. The tone of I'm saying this to help you, but with the underlying bitch she truly is.

Minnie shrinks under Tiffany's challenging eyes. Tiffany's daring her to prove her right, prove she doesn't deserve any type of respect, prove she won't stand up for herself by standing up for herself. No matter what she does she loses. Minnie's head lowers and her shoulders slouch and part me gets really pissed she won't just pay for my soda, but she's in a tough spot so I tell her forget it. "I'm not that thirsty anyway." She bites her lip and gives me an apologetic look and I just shrug and force a smile so she knows I ain't going to ditch her or say she ain't my friend anymore like Tiffany used to do when we were younger.

"On me." The soda slides to me and I catch it before it can fall off the counter. I look up and my face burns hotter. I always blush whenever I see Sodapop, I just can't help it, but I'm equally embarrassed he, one of my brother's friends, was part of the audience to the whole thing. He winks at me and I swear my knees turn to jelly. Damn, is he good looking.

Minnie elbows me and I startle out of my daze. "Uh…" My words get jumbled as I pick at the sweaty bottle. "Thanks," I reply lamely.

He shrugs like its nothing. "You're Two-Bit's kid sister." He says that like that means something.

I know he and his brothers' situation. Ma was friends with their mother and Keith practically lives at their house. I know his parents died in a car crash a little while ago and that he had to drop out of school to help his older brother, Darry, pay for the important stuff. His younger brother, track star and top student in all the smart class, Ponyboy, is in my grade. They all get to stay together as long as the state lets them and the state's always breathing down their necks.

They're nice people and all, and I've got no reason to hate them, but I ain't their biggest fans. I guess if I was being honest, most of that is 'cause of Keith. Don't get me wrong they're good people, and Keith's lucky to have them as friends and all, but it kind of pisses me off. I can understand going over there when their parents died, but when our dad walked out Keith pretty much spent all his time over there, too.

Ma will go over there before her shift or after it and play mother hen, lecturing Darry about locking the front door, and making sure they've got enough food and if they need any help with anything. She's a saint, like I said, but honestly, we don't got enough for ourselves, let alone to help them; enough food, enough money, enough time. And Darry, out of no fault of his own and though too stubborn to admit it, is desperate enough to begrudgingly have to take a little.

I guess all in all, I'm jealous more than anything. I'd give anything to have friends like the Curtis's.

I don't know if it's all this or the fact Keith is the only reason for the free soda, but I can't take it. "But no thanks," I tell him and spin on my heel to walk out. I lean against the building outside, waiting for the rest of the pack. Tiffany tries to flirt with Sodapop, which makes me even more embarrassed, but he won't have any of it and keeps on brushing her off, which is hilarious. I watch Minnie swipe the free soda and walk out to lean against the building with me. She hands me the soda she bought and keeps the free one for herself, flashing me a victorious, ha-ha I found a loophole grin. I appreciate it just enough to pop the cap and take a swig. It would hurt her feelings if I didn't.

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**AN: Wow! Another review! Thank you so much! I cannot begin to tell you how much I appreciate all the views, follows, favorites and the reviews! They really make my day! Thank you so much!**


	4. Gone

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders... or juju bees.**

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We ditched Tiffany, Kelly, and Susie-Ann. I ain't about to let them be jerks to us, most especially Minnie, all night. If we're going to risk our tails sneaking into a movie, than we're damn well going to enjoy the movie. And the whole point of this evening was so Minnie wouldn't have to put up with that type of bullshit from her parents. Why the hell would I make her put up with it from those snarky bitches?

The movie was alright, but Minnie made it more fun. She offered to get popcorn and candy and some more drinks, but I told her to save her money. I ain't entirely proud of it, but Keith ain't the only one who knows how to use the five-finger discount. I get us juju bees and we spend the rest of the night trying to get them stuck to Socs' hair. We throw popcorn at each other and make each other laugh so hard we almost spill our sodas.

By the time the credits roll, I got to get her back to her house. Ma ain't going to be home yet from work and if Keith comes home at all it'll be at some ungodly hour, but her parents are strict about being home on time. If she's even a second late walking through the door, they give her hell. And that on top of being late to class and the cigarette, I almost invite myself for a sleep over.

She gets tenser and quieter the more we get out of the nightly double and when it's time to turn to go either my house or hers she stops suddenly. She looks less like a mouse or a turtle, the way she stands there, and more like a shadow. Like if I was to reach out and touch her she'd be nothing by this blurry dark image on the pavement. It scares me. "I can't do this." Her voice comes out panicky. "I can't keep doing this, Deb."

"Look," I tell her, my hands on her shoulders to ground her, "I'll stay the night, okay? They won't yell or shit or anything. I'll stay there morning, noon, and night until this all blows over…"

"Until it's something else!" Her voice rises and I shoot glares at whoever dares to look our way. "What are you going to do? Never leave my side again? At some point you have to go home!"

I shake my head with a grin. "I'll move in. You're parents will just have to live with having another daughter."

"I'm serious, Deb! You aren't going to just walk out on your mom, you can't and I wouldn't expect you to." I can't say nothing back to it because it's the truth. "But I can't go back there." And she starts to cry and she pleads with me to let her stay the night at my house.

I don't ever bring the girls around my place. Like I've said, it's a mess, so messy that I'm almost glad the state is so focused on the Curtis's because if they cared to look down the block, we'd be screwed, what with our falling apart house, Keith's constant trouble and beer, and ma ain't ever home. But she looks at me with those wet, twitchy mouse eyes and quivering bottom lip and she's so scared and she's so tired. "Yeah, okay," I agree.

When we walk through the front door, I try to hide my embarrassment by shuffling around different things and cleaning up small things quickly and offering her something, but all I've got is a glass of water and ma's dirty plate from this morning in the sink. But she ain't focusing on how much nicer or bigger or cleaner her house is. Instead she stands there in awe, 'cause she's never been inside my house and she looks around like it unlocks some sort of secret and it's kind of funny. We've only really known each other for five years or so and it suddenly strikes me she probably knows next to nothing about me. She ain't even ever met my ma.

I lead her to my room which is in little better state than the rest of the house. I'd let her take the couch, but she's really upset and if Keith ever does come home I don't want his drunk ass to scare her worse. Plus, it ain't like she ever has a brother or cousin or something stumble into the house at three in the goddamn morning drunk and waking everyone up. My face burns at just the thought.

She curls up real close to me in bed, still shaking and crying and keeps repeating that she knows I could never leave ma and she understands and stuff that don't make no sense like she hopes I understand, too. I tell her I'm savvy. I tell her I dig. I tell her I get it. I wouldn't want to go home to that either. But she keeps saying it and shaking and crying and I wrap my arm around her and she goes still and quiet. "You have to understand," she whispers in the darkness and I feel her breath on my neck and ear, "They break me apart till there's nothing left. I can't go back." I tell her I do understand and not to worry and soon we both drift off.

I wake later that night and I'm not sure what it is that jars me from sleep, but when I look over Minnie's gone, no trace, no nothing. And somehow I know she's not coming back.

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**AN: Apparently that is what you did with juju bees at the movies.**

**Also, when I received the first reviews, I sent out private messages to thank the reviewers, but then as I was getting repeat reviewers (which is awesome and exciting) I was worried some of you might not like constant gratitude to spam your inbox with every review you give. So, I was wondering if you are okay with my thanking you in a private message, or would you prefer it in an AN in the next chapter? Because I really appreciate and love the reviews and like I've said before, cannot thank you enough for them, the views, the follows, and the favorites!**


	5. Back to Square One

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders.**

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I think about turning on the television, even though it's only static at this time of night, and playing the radio and hugging a pillow tightly on the couch and waiting up for ma. I just want my ma right now. But ma is still working and when she gets home she'll be dead tired and hardly able to keep her eyes open. She seems more tired lately. And Keith's off god knows where, not that he'd be any help even if he was home. He'd probably just pass out drunk and stinking and lazy on the couch. I don't want to call Tiffany or lay over at Kelly or Susie-Ann's house. I don't need their false friendships. I don't want to call around only to have them act all pissy about calling so late or have their parents give me a hard time because it's a school night or they're eating dinner or one is grounded. I don't think I could take it right now. I never got what any of those things had to do with going over a friend's house, anyway. And they don't like it if I just show up. Keith's only got to walk through his friend's front door.

That's when I remember the soda and what Sodapop said at the DX. He said I was Two-Bit's sister like that meant something, and maybe to him and his gang, it really did mean something. Something more than being some no good J.D.'s younger sister. Something more than being the daughter of a single mom, as though it was somehow her fault our dad decided to up and leave one day. Something more than my ma being a working mother, like that was a bad thing. Something more than the trash the rest of the town saw me as and like I wasn't that much more worthless because I was a girl. Something more than these destinies everyone else seems to concoct for me. I've never been something more than all that, except when I was with Minnie. I've never felt like something more than all that, except when I was with Minnie. And I don't feel that way now. I just don't want to be alone.

I hate walking alone at night. It's dark and scary and I know this ain't the safest neighborhood, especially if you're a girl. Every sound and shadow makes me paranoid and I'm terrified of getting jumped the way Johnny Cade, another friend of Keith's, did. I run as fast as I can and it hurts to breath, but I press on cause the darkness and the endless scenarios playing through my head scare the shit out of me and if I focus on all of this, I don't have to focus on Minnie and how scared I am for her because she can't make it alone in the high school hallways but she's alone out there somewhere I don't know on the dark highways and streets. And I don't have to focus on how angry I am that she would just up and leave without me, like that. It stings, the night air, trying to breathe as I push myself to run faster and faster, but this feeling of rejection stings more. My eyes turn blurry and my nose gets all sniffly and before I know it I find myself on the Curtis front porch, sweaty and face covered in snot and tears and whimpering and crying like a damn two-year old. I can't help myself, though, and I can't stop.

For a second I stare at the door like its some foreign thing I can't grasp, like another language. I don't know if I should knock or not, but that's the whole damn point, ain't it? And what if I'm wrong? What if I knock and they slam the door in my face? I can't take something like that right now. So I just walk in, sit myself on the couch, hug a pillow tightly and cry into it, hoping to muffle the sound the best I can 'cause while I want some company, there's this equal feeling of not wanting to disturb anything. It feels odd to sit in what feels like a stranger's house and if I am caught here, I don't know what I'd tell them.

Footsteps and floorboards creaking come from down the hall but my nose is pressed into the embroidery of the throw pillows. "Uh…" The person hesitates. I stiffen unsure if they're trying to remember my name or will throw me out. "Deb, right? Two-Bit's sister?" I look up and find Ponyboy and Johnny. Ponyboy sounds and they both look surprised and unsure. I hug the pillow tighter. "Er…" He approaches me slowly. "Everything alright?" It's a bullshit question and he knows it. He looks all embarrassed, ears turning red in a way I'd normally laugh at. Then his eyes all widen and get panicky and he breaks into a sweat. "Is Two-Bit okay? Is your mom okay?"

I nod 'cause I really don't want to worry him, especially after everything that happened with his parents, and it ain't really fair of me to show up and they don't know what to do about a girl who randomly starts crying on his couch uninvited, and it ain't exactly a shoulder I'm looking to cry on, just someone to sit next to me or at least in the same room and they don't got to say nothing to me, I just need someone there 'cause I just can't stand the thought of being alone. All of it sort of tumbles out of my mouth mixed with gasps and hiccups and I hardly understand half of it myself. They ask me if I want them to get Two-Bit and I start to cry harder. They got no clue what to do and I ain't helping much. I manage to pull myself together enough to say a coherent no and can I just sit there a while with them and they don't gotta say nothing to me, but I just needed somewhere to go where it wasn't just me and would that be okay?

They weren't about to say no and they offer me some chocolate cake, and I'm starving enough to take it and they start playing cards as I eat. Every so often they look over at me and ask if I am sure that I don't want them to get Two-Bit. "It's better not to rely too much on, Two." I tell them finally.

They look at me a second more, but say nothing and return to their game. I'm still a little shaky and all, and ask for a smoke. They give me a cancer stick and even light it for me. I hope it takes the edge off and helps me relax. I don't smoke that much, but when I feel myself lose it like that it scares me something awful sometimes and I figure that old teddy bear in the attic did me lots of good when I was real young, what's the harm in the cigarette taking the place of the teddy now?

"You okay?" Ponyboy asks.

I nod. "As okay as I'll ever be." Now that I'm thinking more clearly, my face flushes hot because I shouldn't really be here making them sit with me because I'm Two-Bit's sister and I shouldn't be eating their cake because the state's breathing down their neck and that's probably the only reason their cabinets aren't as bare as mine. "I guess I should get out of your hair." I start to get up, but the thought of returning to that empty dark house all alone after Minnie forms another rock in my throat that I can't swallow.

"You don't gotta." Ponyboy tells me.

"We don't mind." Johnny says quietly and it reminds me so much of Minnie that the tears start up again. Normally, I don't like to cry in front of people and I ain't the type of girl who cries a lot, but this whole thing hit me hard. It was supposed to be her and me against the whole damn world and like with the paint and the shoes and the rain, now I'm back to square one.

They don't say nothing else, but Johnny deals me into the next game.

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**AN: Thank you so much for the reviews, the views, the follows, and the favorites!**

**Guest 367: I'm glad you are enjoying the story and Deb and Minnie's friendship! I'm trying hard to keep it realistic and I hope I am able to maintain the quality and realism in this story. :)**

**Guest (from chapter 3): Thank you so much for the review!**


	6. Open Invitation

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders.**

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"Sorry, Darry." The not so quiet voice of my brother wakes me. I don't want to face the morning. I don't want to face the day. I don't want to face anything right now, most especially the Curtis living room and my brother's group of friends I made myself a damn fool in front of. So I remain still and quiet and listen.

"You would've done the same for Ponyboy." I try to bite back any type of retort I feel pushing past the rock that's still in my throat from last night. Keith would do a hell of a lot more for the likes of Ponyboy than he'd ever do for me, than any of his friends would ever do for me. Yeah, they gave me a free soda and yeah, they let me lay over, but that was the extent of it. Keith would give his life for Ponyboy. That's more than anybody would ever give for me, except maybe ma. Ponyboy and Johnny Cade and the rest of them were all the brothers Keith never had.

Suddenly it's not Ponyboy or Johnny Cade I'm mad at for getting Keith anyway. It's me. I feel a wave of self-loathing rush over me as I realize the only god damn reason I'm here, not so alone, on the Curtis couch is because of Keith. 'Cause I'm Two-Bit's younger sister and I don't want that. Minnie didn't give a hang who I was or where I came from. But if I take advantage of that title, even when I need it most, I got to take it when it ain't a good thing, too. I got to take it from the likes of Tiffany and Kelly and Susie-Ann and Cherry Valance and all them others. It ain't got nothing to do with me.

The smell of beer floods my nose and Keith starts shaking me. "Go away." I try to curl up against the cushions but he don't quit and it really starts to piss me off because I want to go back to sleep. I don't want to wake up. And in this moment I think I hate him more than I hate myself. Finally I send my fist flying and he's hung over enough to be slow and my swing makes contact.

He jumps back, nursing a nose spurting blood, and curses loud. "Christ, Deb, it's just me."

"I know. And I told you to go away." I flip over, back to him, but he grabs my shoulder with his blood-smeared hand, blood still dripping from his nose, and turns me back around to face him. "What happened? Pony and Johnnycakes…"

I shove him off me and sit up. "Pony and Johnnycakes…" I mock shooting glares around the room in hopes of finding them two loud mouths. "Should just keep it to themselves. It don't concern you." I don't find anybody but there's a suspicious amount of noise coming from the kitchen.

"Did ya get scared? Something happen?" He's all confused and goes to sit next to me, but I'm up on my feet before he's got the chance. Something happen, understatement of the whole goddamn year. "Some guy hurt you?"

I know how girls on our side of town act. They wear too much make-up and curse and laugh too loud and wear skirts that everyone thinks is too short and they're easy. A whole bunch of Slyvias and Angelas and Evies. Few and far between are actually decent and have more on their minds than just which guys they'd like to screw. I shouldn't expect anything more from the likes of Keith, who uses girls and tosses them away like some snotty old tissue and thinks their whole universe revolves around him. I know he and his gang only see a girl as something to whistle at as they walk by and think it's some type of compliment but that he puts me on that same level makes me want to take another swing at him. He looks ready for it, though, and I'd probably catch air rather than his loud mouth jaw.

I scoff instead. "You…" I start but can't stand the crack in my voice and let it hang. There are so many ways I could finish that thought. I run my hand through my hair, hating the greasy feel to it, hating how in that same exact moment he's running his hand through his greasy hair the same way, how our clothes have the same wrinkles. "Bastard." I mutter under my breath, but he don't hear. He's got his head turned to the side like a confused dog. "No." I finally tell him because he's still waiting for an answer and he causes enough problems without traipsing through the whole of Tulsa looking to beat in the face of the last guy who talked to me just 'cause he's itching for a fight. Then ma would use her measly paycheck to bail his sorry ass out of the slammer again instead of on hot water or groceries.

He stands in the way of the door, waiting for an answer. I look at my feet because I'm a lousy liar. "Just got lonely, I guess." I shrug, but he don't catch the lie. And why would he? He probably knows when Ponyboy or Johnny Cade is lying. "Ma's been working more night shifts lately." I fix him with a glare because he's all of eighteen and could decide to get off his lazy ass and actually help out once in a while. He does eat the food and use the hot water and sleeps at the house. Technically, it is his home, though he's over at Bucks or the Curtis house more. Ain't too many people looking to hire a fifteen year-old girl, at least not in any employment I'd ever go for. I'd rather be homeless and hungry and lonely than ever consider some of _those_ employment options. This makes me get all worried again about Minnie because what is she going to do out there all alone with just a sock full of money.

"Thanks." I shout to the kitchen and Darry appears in the doorway, his tool belt and hard hat in hand. And in that moment I wish I had an older brother like Darry, who actually cared. If anything happened to ma, there would be no Keith and me. Keith would split the first chance he got and I'd be by my lonesome. It strikes me for a moment there ain't much difference at this point if ma were there or not, mostly because she ain't never home anyway. I swallow hard at this realization.

"Anytime." Darry nods all tuff and everything. "The doors always unlocked."

I nod back, hoping it looks all tuff and cool as Darry and I slam the door behind me. It ain't that I ain't grateful for the open invitation, but I ain't ever going to take it.


	7. My Friend's Keeper

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders**

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There's only one thing on my mind and that's finding Minnie. Instead of heading home, instead of heading to school, even just for second period gym for a quick shower, I head to the one place I hope can give me answers. I know I ain't going to find her on some street corner around here. She'd get further away. But still I look in hopes of catching a glimpse of her and in a way I kind of do. It's more like ghosts, though. Like when me and her would ride her bike. I don't got a bike, but she lets me ride hers and I drive her around on the handle bars. At least we used to because we ain't got no cars and technically I can't drive for another year.

I don't know what I'd say to her if I do find her. I don't know what I'd do, but I figure I can cross that bridge when it comes up. I just need to find her is all. And I need to know where to start looking.

I replay our last conversation in my head, trying to figure out when staying the night turned into her beating it out of there for good. I don't exactly blame her, but in a way, I guess I do. I don't know. It just hurts. I don't know which is worse, that she would leave like that or that she could. I feel bad enough ma stays for me, but at the same time I thought I meant something to Minnie. I thought she was a friend. I thought I could be someone's reason to stay. I don't know why I thought it would be so different with her. I never was a reason before.

My mind is so focused on old memories and trying to decipher conversations that I don't notice the cop cars until I'm a house or two away. The fuzz is parked right in front, in front of the perfectly green lawn and perfect white fence and in front of her parents. They're still in their robes and slippers and her mom's still got curlers. They know she's gone. They know she ain't coming back. I wonder if she left them a note or called them or something and that's how they know this. I burn with jealousy because they were always so mean to her and Minnie hasn't left me no phone call, no letter, no nothing. I would've thought if she was going to leave anything for anybody it would've been for me.

I turn quickly to walk away, hoping no one would notice me. I don't like cops and they feel the same way. Like everyone else in this town, they just got to hear my last name or where I live and they've already got their mind made up. This is one situation where being Two-bit's sister ain't a good thing.

No such luck, though. I ain't ever had much luck. Her mom sees me and starts waving and yelling my name and pointing and I can't do nothing but walk over to them or else I look guilty of something. "Hey Ms. Cutlin." I focus all my attention on her so I don't got to focus on the guys in uniforms. They look me over suspiciously and I want to tell them the only thing I'm guilty of is of living on the East side.

"Have you seen Minnie?" Her mom is crying and the question comes out in a desperate rush. "She didn't come home last night and…" I can't make out the rest with all the gasping for air between sobs. I would feel bad for her if she wasn't what made Minnie want to disappear in the first place. Her father just looks serious and angry.

My eyes dart to the cops, back to her parents and I'm a lousy liar, but I ain't about to rat her out. Besides, there ain't much to rat, but even if there were I'd never give up a friend like Minnie like that. I shake my head. "Naw. Ain't seen her."

One of the cops narrows his eyes like he don't believe me. But it ain't a total lie. Since she up and left last night, I ain't seen her at all. "We've spoken to some of your other friends and they said she left with you at the DX yesterday."

Of course Tiffany would and Kellly and Susie-Ann wouldn't mind backing her up. I shrug. "Sure. She was with me yesterday."

"And one of those girls also told us if anyone would know what happened to Minnie Cutlin, it would be you, Ms. Mathews." My nose scrunches. I don't get why adults always use that fake politeness as intimidation. My math teacher does that and it really makes my teeth grind. "Some people also state seeing you and her at the Nightly Double."

"Sure," I drawl, folding my arms and leaning against Minnie's mailbox. "We saw a movie."

"This is a serious matter, Ms. Mathews."

"If you know where my Minnie is, you have to tell us. "Ms. Cutlin sobs and pleads.

"Ain't much to tell." I stare the cop down. I narrow my eyes, too. "Yeah, we went to the DX. Then we saw a movie. And she split right after."

"And where was she going?" The cop jots it all down in his notebook.

"How the hell should I know? I ain't my friend's keeper." But with me not telling, I kind of am. They glower at me and I shrug a shoulder like I couldn't care less.

"And why aren't you in school?" It's like they're looking for a reason to get me in trouble. They'd probably take any reason to drag me down to the station.

I can't help but smile a little 'cause they give me the perfect out. "She didn't meet me like she normally does for school and I was headed here to see if everything was okay."

The cops suggest I get my tail to school and if they see me again they'll make sure to give me an escort. I roll my eyes and head back down the street. I can dodge cops when I don't got my head focused on other things. The problem is I don't know no more than when I started. So I think screw it. I ain't about to get in her house or in her room to find out. And I ain't about to head back to school. So I decided to wing it. I hop the first bus I can find and ride all around town thinking and looking. Then all over the next town, thinking and looking. Then the next.


	8. Lost And Found Diner Part 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders.**

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After about a week of nothing but riding buses and searching a different town every day, I wind up by this little diner right outside of Oklahoma City. My throat is dry with the desert air and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. I'm all hot and sweaty and my dogs are barking, as my ma would say. I go in and order a glass of water because I ain't got no money except a few nickels I found in between the couch cushions for the bus fare. The waitress acts all pissy because I won't order nothing else.

I take one of the red stools at the counter because a booth by myself is too big and lonely and from the stool I can see the whole place, including most of the outside. I study the faces, try to look for the familiar one I want to see, try to will Minnie to walk through the door, sit down in the stool next to me and buy me that soda she owes me.

Instead, this man comes in with some slick suit and tie and brand spanking new shoes and everything and plops down beside me. I don't pay him no mind at first. He ain't nothing special. Just another Socy business dad stopping for some lunch before heading back to his 9-5 office where he'll bring home the bacon for his Ms. Pretty-and-Perfect pearl wearing wife to cook up for a dinner with their 2.5 socy whiney-ass brats.

But then his toothy grin catches my eye and I swear to god it's like looking at Keith. All I can do is gape at this guy as he eats his sandwich. I think maybe my ma was right. Keith don't looks so much like her now. Then he looks me in the eye and tilts his head to the side like he can't decide if I look familiar to him or not. Something about it makes it like looking in a mirror, too. Like if I was to reach out, he'd do the same thing. His eyes widen like he's seen a ghost, he throws his money on the counter and rushes out of there. And I sit there dumbfounded, staring after this man, my mind trying to connect the dots.

My stomach flips and I suddenly don't feel too well. For the first time since her disappearance , Minnie is all but forgotten and the only thing repeating in my mind is, _no, it can't be_.


	9. Suspension

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders.**

**AN: Thanks for the reviews, views, favorites, and follows! There are about four more chapters I have already written and typed. There are going to be more chapters after that if people are still interested.**

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Ma gets home early and when she sees me she gives me that tired smile. For a moment I'm afraid she knows who I think I saw at the diner. I suddenly feel real bad and just as sick as before. But she kisses my forehead and tells me she got a call from the school and because I hadn't bothered to go for a while, they decided to suspend me. Oh, the irony. I'd laugh if my gut wasn't in knots.

"Where have you been going, baby?" She asks me as she kicks off her shoes and drops her purse by the door. She looks about ready to collapse and frankly, she's got enough on her plate so I tell her I ain't been going nowhere and I think she knows I ain't telling the truth but she's too tired to press me for answers and she probably wouldn't anyway. She ain't like that.

"Go lie down, ma, and I'll cook us something for dinner." I tell her as I get up from the couch. She's probably hungry and it's been a while since she's been around to talk.

"You know what would be fun?" She gets this guilty look and I know where she's going with this. "Maybe eating over at a friend's house." We ain't got nothing to eat, she means, but she don't want to tell me that.

"Yeah. That does sound like fun." She don't need to know I know and if I don't go along with it she'll feel more guilty. I put Keith's old sneakers on and head out the door, letting her think I'm heading to Kelly or Susie-Ann or Tiffany's place. Truth is I don't want to call them to see if I can come over. I don't want to talk to them and I don't want to see them neither. They'll probably do nothing but bad mouth me and Minnie and ask a whole bunch of question I don't want to answer or can't. But that means I got nowhere to go.

I stop in front of the Curtis house. It's loud in there. It sounds like a private little party with the radio and television and rough housing. Ma won't have to tell Keith it would be more fun to eat over at a friend's house and he won't have to lie and pretend to go to one. He'd just go here. He probably goes here for showers, too. And he'd sit back, play some cards, drink some beer, and eat more in one meal than I've probably seen since the night Minnie left.

The growling stomach is enough to bring me to one of the pay phones outside the DX and waste some of tomorrow's bus fare on trying the girls. The first two options go as well as I thought they would. I bang my head against the glass. Finally someone picks up, "Hey, Tiff! It's Deb! I was wondering if I could come over tonight."

She snaps her gum into the phone as she hems and haws over it. "You always come over here." She complains. "I want to go over your house! It's not fair!"

We get into it about this and it's real frustrating because we've been over this a hundred and some times. And I come up with a million excuses that ain't even close to the truth about why she can't. She gets more and more pissy with each one and finally shouts loud enough to puncture my eardrum and for the whole of the street I'm on to hear, "I bet you that's why Minnie left because you were such a lousy friend!"

I slam the phone down and keep repeating to myself that Tiffany's a bitch. I tell myself that until that's the only thing I can think of, until I can feel nothing but how pissed off she makes me. It almost works, until my stomach growls again. Christ, I'm hungry.

I look up at the OPEN sign in the DX window. If I don't eat something soon, I don't know what I'm going to do. Though I swore to myself I'd never do it again, I open the door, walk straight up to the counter, and hope Sodapop is behind it. I know with Sodapop he'd give me some chips and a soda for free. As much as I hate it, being Two-Bit's sister is the only thing I got right now.

No such luck. Instead, it's Steve Fucking Randle. I know he ain't about to give me shit for free. He can't stand Ponyboy. What the hell is he going to make of me? He might be Keith's friend, too, but Steve ain't about to be all sympathetic over a bag of chips and soda, I don't think.

I bring up the chips and soda and pretend to look through my pockets and socks, anywhere people normally stash money. "I think I forgot my wallet." I look up at him sheepishly, hating how desperate my voice sounds. He looks me over, but I can't read his eyes. I just need him to buy this lie. Truth is ma ain't too fond of the idea of anyone finding out just how much we're struggling and Keith don't know shit about it because he ain't around to know it. I ain't too fond of anyone knowing, either. I get enough grief about having to wear my brother's hand-me-down shoes.

For a second, I think about how I must look to him. Greasy hair, wrinkled clothes, hand-me-down shoes, desperate pleading voice, stomach growling. My face flushes, even though many people on our side of town don't look much better, and he's probably seen worse. He's probably been worse.

"Two can cover it." I wouldn't beg, but I was desperate enough to call Tiffany and if he don't agree than I'll have to swipe something, but I'm all too pissed and starving to do it well. Then I'll get hauled to the slammer and ma will have to bail me out with money we don't have and she'll find out I didn't really go to a friend's house and she'll give me that tired smile mixed with that guilty look and I'll feel worse and still hungry and still pissed on top of it all.

Steve looks pissed, more than I try to convince myself I feel. But he let me have it, swearing to charge Keith interest for it too. I hurry out of there, ripping into the bag the first chance I get. I decide to head to one of my friends of convenience house anyway because there ain't nowhere else to go, except maybe the Curtis house, but I shouldn't have gone there the first time. And I used up enough of my Two-Bit's sister cards for the night.

The closest house is Tiffany's. I don't want to walk anymore in the dark than I already have, so hers is the house I go to. She and her family don't like it when I just show up like this, but they won't very well turn away someone standing on their front step.

There are many things I can't stand about Tiffany's house. One is how every time I'm there I feel like some sort of delinquent. Her house don't look real. And it don't look like no one lives there. They get real weird about wearing shoes in the house or if anything gets moves a centimeter out of place. It's like a museum. There ain't any signs, but if there were they'd all read "No touching," "Look with your eyes, not your hands," or "you break it you buy it." They don't like me very much, and they whisper real loud about me and my ma and my brother and where I live, though they've never seen my house. They never say I can't stay, though, and I couldn't tell you why they won't turn me away.

But the one thing I can't stand the most about Tiffany's house is her mom. Her mom don't work. She don't got to. But she's around about as much as my ma. I know Tiff would like her around more, not that she'd admit it, but she gets this thin disappointed scowl each time her mother dismisses her or sighs when she enters the room like she can't be bothered by her own daughter's presence. It really pisses me off though, cause I know if my ma could, if she didn't have to always work, she'd spend the time with me and Keith. If she could, she'd sit at the table with the two of us at 6 or whatever a normal dinner time is, instead of at one in the morning, and she wouldn't be tired or yawning and we'd all laugh and talk. And here's this woman, Tiffany's upper-middle class mother, who could do everything my ma would die to do for Keith and me, but Tiff's mother don't. And I want to shake her and yell, 'cause she's lucky enough to have this opportunity, but she don't take it.

Then there's the sleeping arrangements. Don't get me wrong. I know it ain't too great for them having some friend of convenience knocking on their door asking to lay over after the rude phone call interrupting dinner and refusing to return such a gracious favor such as a place to lay my head so my ma don't feel guiltier than she already does and so I don't got to see that real tired smile. Hell, they don't like having one fifteen year old in the house. Why would they want another one with so little notice? But it kind of bugs me when we go into Tiffany's perfectly orderly, clean room and she points to the ground. "I guess if you have to stay you can take my rug." She says all annoyed. Take the rug, like the dog she thinks I am. Like I should be grateful she ain't kicking me outside to sleep in the goddamn yard. And she sits on her bed like a high and mighty fucking queen, staring down her nose at me.

Susie-Ann at least lets me take the couch. And I get a blanket. Kelly will drag every blanket and pillow she can find to the middle of the floor and settle down there with me. And Minnie, I think with what feels like a punch to the gut, would let me share her bed. But with Tiffany I get the goddamn carpet. I start to wonder if the lot would've been better. I wouldn't have gotten any sleep. And I'd be jumping at every noise and cold and everything, but at least I wouldn't have to put up with this. At least I wouldn't feel entirely like nothing.

Instead of saying anything about it, I ask if I could use her shower and she scrunches up her nose and makes a disgusted face. "Yes, please do! You could use one! I don't want you stinking up my carpet!" I bite my tongue because at least I've got a place to stay. And as long as she needs me to be someone she can look down upon, I know I'll be allowed to stay, at least begrudgingly.

I know I shouldn't take advantage, even with them all being less than hospitable, but when I turn on the hot water I just can't help myself. I don't know how long I stay in there. Time ceases to exist in the shower, but by the time I made my way back to Tiffany's room the light is off and she's fast asleep under the covers. I watch her for a second. To anyone who don't know her, they'd think she looked like an angel. I laugh as I flop down on her scratchy carpet, trying to get comfortable without any pillow or blanket offered to me. Whoever would think that could not be more wrong.

I wake up earlier than everyone else, get a quick drink of water, and sneak out. It ain't like they'd care very much, most of all Tiffany. If anything, they'd all be rather grateful. It ain't like they would've offered me any breakfast, either. No reason to stick around longer than need be. The only thing is I want to make sure my ma is at work before I get back to the house. So I walk around shivering in the morning air for a little bit as the sun's just rising and the sky looks bruised.

That's when I pass the Dingo. That's when I see Dallas Winston sitting inside. That's when I get an idea. If anyone would know anything, it would be Dallas Winston. After all, the cops drag him down to the station when they need to know about anything that happens on our side of the tracks.

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**AN: Up next, some Dally!**


	10. Fair Exchange

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders.**

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I throw the carton down on the table in front of him. I ain't dumb. I know the score. Nothing is free, though being a Mathews and all I can come by most pretty cheap when I want to. "I've got some questions." I tell him and nod to cigarettes I lifted from the store. "Consider this payment."

He flicks the carton and it spins like a top. With a snort, he looks up with this lynx smirk, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. His arms stretch out along the back of the booth.

Honestly, greasers like Dallas Winston and Tim Shepard scare me something awful. When Keith brings him around the house I normally stay out of the way. I don't think I've spoken two words to the guy, and I wouldn't if this didn't concern Minnie. "Two-Bit's sister." Girls normally go crazy for that whole bad boy thing. Personally, I don't see it. What's so attractive about guys who treat the whole world like shit?

He pockets my payment. "Sorry, sweetheart. It's going to take ya something more. You think I go this cheap. Just cause you're Two-Bit's sister don't mean shit to me."

"Don't mean shit to a lot of other people, or even Two either for that matter." I glare at him all stubborn. I ain't here because of my brother and I ain't here because I expect anything from him because he hangs around with my brother. "I came for a fair exchange."

"I can lift my own cancer-sticks." He never loses the smile, but there's something more intense in his icy eyes. I got to hold onto the stubbornness. My heart beats out of my chest and my hands get all sweaty, but I can't tell if it's the fear or adrenalin.

Without an invitation, I sit across from him. "Tell me what you want and I'll get it."

He throws his head back and laughs. "You couldn't get me what I want."

"Come on, Dallas. Haven't you ever cared for anyone?" He looks about ready to deck me at making such an accusation. If I don't tread carefully, Two-Bit's sister or not, he'll kill me and I ain't looking forward to a black eye or bruised jaw. I tense up.

"Care about something and it will make you weak. Get tough, kid, and nothing will touch you." I thought about Angela Shepard. There was a truth to this. There was a reason all the villains of comic books go after all the people the superheroes care about most. Hit them where it hurts and it ain't a punch to the jaw. If this were Angela Shepard, she'd shrug a shoulder. She'd say good riddance and wouldn't give it another thought. She wouldn't bother wasting her time riding some buses to any town she could think of in some half-hearted hopes. And as much as I'd like to live by Dallas Winston's life motto, as much as I'd like to be Angela Shepard, I can't and I ain't.

Desperate and hoping in the black hole in his chest there is some remnants of a heart, at least somewhere very deep deep down, I turn on my best puppy eyes and plead. "I got to know. If someone wanted to disappear from here without anyone knowing, how would they do it?"

"Going to cost you more."

"I ain't got nothing more."

He eyes me for a second. "Why do you want to know?"

"None of your damn business!" But he drums his fingers, waiting for an answer. This is the price for his knowledge. "I know you covered for Two when he broke the windows at the school." His eyes narrow and I go on quicker than he can form the fist or send it flying, "I got a friend in trouble." He doesn't believe me, but he tells me anyway. Hop a train. Where to? He tells me I didn't pay enough for that answer and gets up and walks away. The exchange don't feel like it comes out fair, but then again, Dallas Winston don't strike me as someone who plays fair. And for the first time since Minnie left, I got an idea of where I can start looking.


	11. Hopping Trains

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders.**

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We used to talk about hopping a train all the time, but it never was anything. It was always late at night, after her parents went to sleep. We'd hide under blankets with a flashlight planning out our grand escape. We never thought it would amount to much. Or at least, I guess, I didn't. I guess that's why I didn't think of it to begin with. But now, it all makes sense.

I hop into one of the boxcars I think Minnie would have chosen after the person checks with his flashlight. It's dark and not particularly comfortable and not the warmest. She would've been better on a bus. And part of me wonders if she took the train because she knew I'd think of a bus first. My mind returns to our conversation the morning she left: _What? You think I ain't tough? I'm damn tough!_

"You're damn tough alright." I mutter to the empty car. If she hopped a train, maybe she ain't playing it nearly as safe as I thought she would. I don't know if I'd call it smart. Not paying a bus fare would sure save on whatever money she's got stashed, but something about it don't sit right with me. It don't fit her, like how words like ain't and damn don't fit her mouth the way it does mine.

A whistle blew jolting me from my thoughts. The train lurched and I flew into the side. Gingerly, I picked myself up, inching away from the opening as it slowly picked up speed. I didn't want to think about her like this. Probably still crying and all shook up, trembling and cold and probably hungry. At the same time, to think she might've sat where I was currently was somewhat of a comfort. There was the possibility she was here, and if she were here, maybe I could find her. I still don't know what I'd say or do to her. Probably hug her or punch her in the face.

I rummage around the car desperately. I don't know what I'm looking for. Just a sign she were here. And even though all the while I'm doing it, I know it's farfetched, it don't hurt any less when I turn up with nothing. And suddenly there's this mix of things stirring up inside. The old sting and betrayal surface, combined with this bitter disappointment, and this almost overwhelming jealousy. 'Cause she was able to do something I never could. She could hop a train and disappear and never look back no matter what or who. She could stop caring. Even after she just up and leaves and still with no word from her, I can't stop caring about her. And at the same time it hurts, enough for my eyes to itch and my throat to close, that she could do that to me.

I hug my knees to my chest and watch the world blur by outside the boxcar.

* * *

I hop out and walk around the town. It's real country with tractors and a lot of the men are sunburned like they've been working in fields. If Minnie were with me, we'd probably try to find some horses so we could watch them. She wasn't allowed to go to the Slash Jay, but I'd take her some time and horses always seemed to mesmerize her.

The town's a bit of a walk and I start to wonder if she'd avoid it all together. I would've thought she'd stop for food and supplies, but then again I never thought she'd hop a train neither. And if she ain't taking a bus maybe she don't want to be seen. Maybe she's hiding somewhere. Maybe she hopped another train or never got off here to begin with. I don't want to think about those last two. 'Cause then it would mean I lost my only damn lead.

After what feels like forever, I get to this little one-horse store. The bell rings when I walk inside. They've got everything lying out in the open and if I was more like Keith I'd walk away with half the store. Hell, Minnie could probably get away with swiping whatever she needed and saving more of her money.

Behind the counter is an old woman. She looks like a grandmother and her smile falters when she sees my clothes and my hair. The forced civility is sickening and her voice becomes strained. She don't trust me and if it wasn't for Minnie and all I'd probably have something to say. I settle for my fists balling and my teeth grinding. I hate the way her eyes follow me, like the people at the stores back in Tulsa. The moment they lay eyes on me, they know I'm from the East side.

I slouch further than I already am. She's the type of woman who probably scolded her children to stand up straight. I can hear the silent tut-tut at such a disgraceful appearance. She wouldn't have done the same thing to Minnie. Minnie didn't slouch unless she was trying to impress me and act tough. She didn't look like she was from the East side. Nobody thought 'trouble' when they looked at her. "I'm looking for a friend." I mumble. She don't say nothing and it makes me angrier. She probably won't tell me the truth even if she knew. I go on to describe her and has she happened to see anyone like that around?

She eyes me uncertainly, lips pursed as she hums like she's thinking it over. I doubt she is. Or she's trying to decide if she should call the cops on me. Finally, she shakes her head. "No, dear. Haven't seen your friend around." I cringe 'cause she sounds a lot like that Hank Williams that always plays at Bucks. She goes back to her work, ignoring me and I turn on my heel. I swipe the candy bar before leaving.

I walk for a little while when the other locals are about as helpful, trying to find any place she might hide out or sleep for the night. My feet are killing me when I finally find the perfect place, an old abandoned church at the top of some hill. The climb doesn't help my feet.

A window in the back makes the perfect entrance. The whole place is covered in cobwebs. It gives me the creeps. I didn't like the idea of her staying here. It would've given her nightmares if she slept at all. It would give me nightmares. And where would she sleep anyway? The floor was stone and hard and the pews looked more uncomfortable than the train.

I sit among the dust and debris, trying to picture her here, but I can't. I get a sinking feeling in my gut. There's no sign she was here. No foot prints but mine. No wrappers or trash. No nothing. I'm sure she wouldn't stay here, no matter how tough she tries to act. A shiver goes down my spine and I just know something bad has happened here or is going to happen. With that discomforting thought, I'm on my feet and running from that place like my life depends on it.


	12. Lost And Found Diner Part 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders.**

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It's the hiss of the bus coming to a stop and the creak of the door as if opens that jars me out of my restless sleep. With a start I glance around to realize we've stopped at the little diner outside of Oklahoma City. Peering out the window, I see a familiar face sitting at the counter, all slick suit and tie and brand spanking new shoes. I scramble out of the bus and into the diner and right at the red stool I sat at before.

As I lower myself, breathing hard, I stare at him, but he don't look up from his lunch. God, he looks socy and again there's that eery feeling of looking in a mirror. There's Keith's toothy grin right on his face. He turns to face me, eyes widened, mouth gaping like a fish. He throws some money on the counter.

"Sir, this is too much money!" The waiter tells him, but he's already out the door. "Don't you want your change, sir?"

I quickly follow him. I'm right on his heel and it feels too cat-and-mouse for my liking. It sure must've been a sight. "Stop! Hold up! Wait a moment, damn it!" I cry after him. "Don't want to scratch up those pretty shoes of yours!" There's an edge to my voice that I never meant to be there. At a loss I finally shout, "DAD!" That halts him in his tracks, but he doesn't turn around. He doesn't face me. "You were always good at running, weren't you!" My breathing becomes heavier and I feel myself tremble.

He sighs and it reminds me too much of Tiffany's mother. Like he can't be bothered by my presence. He pinches the bridge of his nose and the memories that come with it make me feel sick. I can see him doing that right before an argument escalated with ma. Right before he'd start shouting. Right before the dishes would go flying. Right before he'd walk out and slam the door and leave my ma in tears. "What do you want?"

I walk in front of him and stare at him, but he won't lift his gaze to meet mine. "Look me in the goddamn eye and tell me why!" There's a waver and crack to my voice that I don't like. It so dangerous and desperate I barely recognize it as my own. Why? Why wasn't I good enough? Why wasn't I reason enough to stay? He doesn't say nothing. That old Mathew's stubbornness. I've had enough. Enough of him. Enough of chasing down ghosts that don't want to be found. Enough of everything. I bring back my fist and slam it into his face and run away before he has time to react.

I don't know where I'm running, but all I know is I want to get away. I need to get away. And I do.

Once the adrenalin wears off, the pain in my hand draws me out of whatever blind state I was in and I look around to realize I'm back, wandering the streets of Tulsa and its night. I figure I took another bus home. Before I can figure out anything else, headlights blind me. I ain't got no more energy to run, so I resign myself to my fate, whatever it might be. I just don't care anymore.


	13. Playing At Brother

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders.**

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"Hey, sis." Keith rolls down the window of his beat up car. I blink at him and that stupid toothy grin. I would give anything to wipe it off his stupid face. My eyes narrow as the old heap of scrap metal rattles in front of me. "Where ya been?"

I snort and even though my feet protest any further movements, I turn to walk away. He leans out the window and grabs my wrist which does wonders for my hurting hand, let me tell ya. I whip around and tug myself free, unable to suppress a wince.

"Hang on a sec wuddya? I've been looking for ya all day! Where ya been?" Of course, he misses it, though. He misses everything.

"Oh, that's rich coming from you!" I snap.

"Dallas told me you were talking 'bout…"

My eyes blaze and if my hand were cooperating I'd send it flying in his face again. "Dallas Winston and the rest of your greasy no-good J.D. friends ought to learn to keep their damn traps shut! And why is it you only ever give a damn about me when one of 'em point it out?" I raise an eyebrow. "Fuck off, Two!"

Again I go to leave, but this time he hurries out of the car, slamming the door behind him. "Hey! Christ, sis…"

"You don't get to just play at being an older brother!" I fire over my shoulder. "You ought to take a page out of Darry Curtis's book!"

He catches up in no time and turns me around to face him. I can't see him too clearly in the dark. I can't tell if he's pissed, but I hope to hell it hurts. I hope to hell it's like a punch to the gut. I want it to sting and fester like it always does for me. I want him to feel every goddamn thing I feel every time he goes running to the Curtis house and his gang. And what hurts more is that part of me can't begrudge him any of it. I'd rather go to the Curtis house, too. I'd rather find a new family and a new life, because that's what the gang is to Keith. I'd rather walk away from it all, too. Like everybody else does.

"You're just like _dad_!" I growl and with the way he goes wheeling backward I know I've accomplished what I wanted. "So, do us all a favor, Two-Bit, and the next time you walk out that door, don't bother coming back." He stares at me speechless. With a deadly glare and a shake of his head, he storms back to his car, slams the door shut, and speeds toward Buck's.

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**AN: The chapters have been prewritten up until this point and I'm struggling with where to take the story from here. I might update my other story and post a few prewritten one-shots until I come up with ideas for this story! If anybody has any suggestions or ideas of where to go from here, I'd love to hear them!**

**Special thanks to the guests for their reviews!**


	14. Forget and Ignore

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders.**

**AN: I'm so sorry its take so long for me to update. It's really busy this time of year and then to top it off this chapter was giving me some trouble. I couldn't get my ideas down on paper and when I did, it didn't sound write. I rewrote this twice, but I'm still not sure it sounds right. I really suck at rewriting stuff. So, my apologies if this chapter sucks.**

**Anyway, special thanks to The Gun Slick and Indiggo for the suggestions! They were a big help in getting over the writer's block!**

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The locker room always smells like too much perfume and gym socks. It's nauseating so early in the morning and does wonders on my already unsettled stomach. If I look anything like I feel, I must look like shit. Staying up till three in the goddamn morning and passing out on the couch wasn't my brightest idea. Ain't like I was staying up for no one. Deciding to actually come to school wasn't my brightest idea neither.

It's only 'cause of the shower in second period gym. No other reason for me to be here. Ain't like I expect to see anyone. And I sure as hell ain't been itching to come back here.

I tell myself the shower will help. It always does. There's just something about a hot shower that makes it seem like it can wash everything bad away. Not just the grease and dirt and grime. Not just the stiffness in my back and shoulders from my lousy couch or hurting hand. Not just the East Side that covers me. It can make me feel a little less me. I can get lost in the steam. Everything ceases to exist outside of the water fall and I'll go crazy if I don't got something keeping my mind off of everything.

And if I focus on all this, I don't got to focus on the teacher's lecture and inquisition about where I've been and why I'm late like it's any big deal. I don't got to focus on the way the smoke Angela Shepard blows from her cancer sticks makes my stomach twist more. I don't got to focus on Tiffany sticking up her nose at me from her group of super socs.

Forget and ignore. I think just maybe I can do this. Just maybe I can be like Dallas Winston and Angela Shepard. 'Cause I don't care. I repeat it to myself over and over again. I don't care. Real simple. And I disappear into the shower.

And it's heaven. The heat soaks in and I get lost in the steam. The world melts away and I take my sweet time. If the gym teacher's got a problem with that they can deal with it. For a moment it's like I can breath. It's like the world don't exist. Or maybe I don't exist and ain't that a fine thought?

Just as quick, my head starts to hurt just as much as my stomach. It's like being startled out of a really great dream. Black spots color my vision and the world spins. I slump against the stall to hold me up and fumble with knobs. As the steam dies down, cold air pricks uncomfortably at my arms and legs, but the coolness of the stall makes my head bearable. I wait for my vision to clear and the world to right itself before I go back to my locker for my clothes.

Tiffany wears a dangerous smile when she leans against the locker next to mine. "I'm surprised to see you here." I grimace. Ignoring someone is easier when they don't seek you out. I try to go around her, but she steps in my way. "Where have you been?" There's something teasing in her tone. "We all thought you might've run away, too. Isn't that right, Susie-Ann?"

Susie-Ann comes up from behind her with an equally wicked grin. "Uh-huh. We thought you might've run off with Dallas Winston." A bunch of Socy girls they were with all giggle behind their hands. Angela and her Greasy girls all look over. The whole room is hushed whispers of interest and my face burns.

"We heard you were sweet on him." Tiff's smile widens.

"I ain't!" I'd give anything to wipe that smug look off her stupid face. I wince as my hurt hand clenches into a tight fist.

"Golly!" Tiffany laughs. "Would you look how red she is?" She glances over her shoulder at all the other girls. The audience erupts in laughter and its affirmation enough to continue. "Heaven knows it's the only way you'd ever get out of this town."

She steps to the side, exposing my open and, to my horror, empty locker. I don't know what drops more my face or my aching stomach. "What did you do with them?" Not even Two's old hand-me-down shoes are there. I pull the towel tighter around me and my face burns brighter.

"What's a matter?" She looks mighty pleased with herself. "Why so shy in front of us? I bet you weren't this shy with Dallas Winston." What kind of rumors have they been spreading about me? More laughter rings off the walls. Angela raises an eyebrow and flashes an amused smirk. There's something almost challenging about it. She'd eat up attention like this. She'd have a decent comeback, a good obscenity to throw their way and turn 'em redder than me. She'd remind them who they tried to mess with and teach them not to do it again. "I guess it's true what they say. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

"And you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" I snap. "There ain't a room in Buck's you or your mother are strangers to." Let it be known, the old Mathew's wit ain't lost on me. "And I got news for you. Just 'cause your mom treats you like dirt don't mean you get to treat everyone else that way."

Her face contorts into a mess of reds and wrinkles and she frowns. "It's no wonder Minnie left when she had you as friend. What is it about you that makes everyone want to leave? Speaking of which, we haven't seen your brother around much lately. Did he skip out on you like your best friend and dad? How much longer do you think until your mom does, too?"

And I do the only thing I can think of. I take a swing, feeling a rush of sick pleasure as I feel my knuckles smack her jaw. It will be the same sick pleasure and justice I'll feel each time I see that big ugly purple bruise on her pretty wanna-be face.

Now it's me standing over her. And I think 'good. She deserves it.' I like the power I feel. I like the way everyone takes a step back. I like the way Angela's eye perks up in interest. Who's so goddamn superior now? And for the first time ever, it's me looking down at someone else. And it feels great.

Her hair covers her face. Her whole body shakes and her breathing's heavy. With each insult out of my mouth, her fists clench harder. "Crybaby" is barely said when she springs back to her feet with such speed and ferocity, it takes everyone by surprise and next thing I know she's got a fist full of my hair and her nails try to gouge out my eyes. Everyone starts yelling and my head meets the ground as she pounces at me, screeching nonsense.

Susie-Ann pulls her off and the room grows deathly quiet as the gym teacher comes barging in demanding to know what happened. I'm still seeing stars and my cheek is bleeding. My head hurts something awful and it's all I can do to see two of the teacher, if not one. Tiffany cries into Susie-Ann's shoulder. Angela blows smoke in our direction. The teacher looks to me. "Ms. Mathews." She rolls her eyes exasperatedly. "Why is it whenever a Mathews is involved, there's always trouble? You aren't even here twenty minutes and already something happens."

I growl, trying hard to not rub the back of my head. She still looks at me, expecting an answer. I ain't no rat. Wouldn't matter if I did anyway. Tiff would still get off scott free and I'd still be the one in trouble. And I know how this looks to them. I might be the one on the ground, by Tiff's the one crying. I shrug, like it's nothing. Like it don't feel like my head is split in two. Like I'll be able to walk down the halls without fingers pointed at me and everyone won't whisper behind their hands. "I guess I tripped."

A girl lets out a nervous titter and the tension dissolves. Barks of laughter ring in my ears once more and the gym teacher shakes her head. "Always playing the clown. Get dressed." She tells me gruffly. "And ya'll get out of here." She tells the room. "Put that out," she tells Angela. "Wash your face." She tells Tiff and I swear her voice is softer. She rants a bit about 'no more funny business' and gives me a look when she says it.

Tiffany flashes me a tear-stained, victorious smile once more. Susie-Ann laughs like it's the funniest thing in the all mighty universe. For the first time, I notice Kelly standing there. She don't say nothing. She stares at me, downright apologetic and chewing her lip. She looks mighty uncomfortable. And for a moment, it reminds me of that time in the DX when Minnie went to pay for my soda. Kelly sure ain't Minnie, but I still couldn't help but feel a little bad for her. It ain't easy being the one standing there like that. You can't win with someone like Tiffany. It don't make it right and if Minnie were here… I stop myself from going further with that thought.

"Is there a problem, Ms. Mathews?" It's clear by this point I'm trying what little patience the teacher has.

There are so many ways I could answer that question. All of which would probably earn me a detention if not a suspension, again. "No." I lie.

"Then hurry up. Get moving." And she follows the last of the girls out of the locker room.

And there I stand, in the empty locker room, in nothing but a towel and no idea where they might've hidden my clothes. I glance around, looking for some sort of solution, 'cause I ain't about to walk out of here like this. It's bad enough what Tiffany and them were saying about me. No need to make it worse. Then my eye catches a locker I know well.

I have the combination memorized as if it were my own. My hands shake and get all clammy. I don't know why I'm so nervous. It's stupid. It's not like I don't know what I'm going to find. I try to push down the sudden rush of hope and anxious-excitement. If anything, they probably cleaned it out days ago. Ain't nobody thinking she's coming back. I hold my breath and close my eyes as I open the door, almost too afraid to look.

When I finally do, there's a tangled bundle of some extra clothes and a coat. The corners of my lips twitch in appreciation for Minnie's preparedness, but turn down quickly when that's all there is. The disappointment stings just as much as the night I woke up and she was gone. It was stupid to think I'd find anything more.

The clothes fit fine, at least fine enough until I get home 'cause I ain't spending another minute in this hell hole. I shouldn't have come back in the first place. Next time I'll just sneak into the Curtis house or something. The shower was my only reason for being there. Nothing else. Ain't like I was looking for no one or nothing.

As I head off campus, I grimace at the thought of having to face my ma when she finds out about the shoes. The clothes I might be able to hide, but we ain't got enough money for another pair of shoes. It seems like all I get from her is that tired smile. It makes me feel worse than before. I sigh and put my hands in Minnie's pocket, only for my fingers to brush paper.


End file.
